Patrick Jane and The Kid
by Ellipsis9
Summary: After a child witnesses a crime but won't speak at all it's up to Patrick to help the kid and solve the murder.
1. Chapter 1

A weak California morning sunlight streamed through the CBI HQ windows. The team surrounded the couch on various desk chairs. Patrick Jane lay out on the couch, one arm behind his head, the other holding a mocha coffee. Teresa Lisbon held files in her lap and glanced between the papers and the glass windows of her private office where a dark skinned child could be seen. He was slouched in the chair, feet kicking air every so often when he swung them.

"He's lost everything, the poor kid is damaged. We can't just throw him in the system while we wait for him to speak to us," Agent Cho said, observing the child. "He can't even look us in the eye."

Rigsby nodded. "Won't say a word. We don't even know his name yet."

Patrick Jane sighed. "I know I can get something out of him. I just need more time with him."

Lisbon shuffled her files, clearly tense. "He might be the only witness to his parent's death. Who knows what he saw today before sunrise. We'll just have to wait for him to…"

"Heal?" Patrick sat up from his supine position. "Yeah, okay he's sent to a foster family. Then after a month of healing he can tell us what happened? Meanwhile the killer walks. There has to be a better way."

"Take him in then," Rigsby suggested, not looking up from his paperwork.

Lisbon and Cho spun in their chairs to look at him.

"What?" Rigsby said defensively. "If one of us fosters him for awhile then chances are greater we can get more out of him."

"That's not a bad idea." Lisbon agreed. "Patrick, you're the best one out of all of us. If anyone can help that kid and get information it's you."

Patrick sat up even straighter at this. "No, I'm not really willing to-"

"Not willing to do your job?" Lisbon countered.

"My job is taking in orphans?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Your job is following my instructions." She smiled.

Patrick was never a heartless or selfish man. He'd rather give 100,000 dollars to a struggling blackjack dealer whose mother needed a transplant then splurge on something for himself. The child could live with him for however long it would take.

~*~

"So this is it." Patrick set the kid's dingy Spiderman suitcase by the guest bed and black garbage sack filled with other possessions on the dresser gently, as if a bomb would go off if any too sudden movements were made.

The kid stood there silently, his dark brown eyes running over everything in the room except the other occupant.

Patrick swayed back and forth, hands in his pockets. "So…we found your birth certificate in your family's apartment today. Your name is Jordon. Jordon Garth Martin."

Patrick Jane surveyed the child's expression and picked up on subtle clues in his expressions. "Hmm…you probably like to be called by your initials don't you? J.G.M? Or maybe just J.G." This time Patrick got more of a response. "Okay, it's J.G then."

Slowly Patrick edged his way to the doorway. "I'll be downstairs making lunch." He was halfway in the hallway when he popped back in the room. "Rules! I forgot rules. There really isn't much you can't do here. Just don't leave the house without permission. Everywhere is pretty much free range for you to roam but stay out of the room at the end of the hallway. Don't break anything and don't leave the country….sorry, cop joke."

He thrummed his fingers on the door jam and J.G stayed planted in the same spot.

"I'll come get you when grilled cheese is done."


	2. Chapter 2

"Turns out our witness Jordon Martin already has a social worker, Rebecca Holloway." Agent Teresa Lisbon said over the phone in her office.

"And the parents? The social worker has files on them for abuse?" Patrick Jane replied, cordless phone wedged on his tilted shoulder as he flipped a grilled cheese sandwich on the skillet.

"Yes that's right. No actual evidence of abuse could be found though so the parents weren't further investigated." She said surprised. "Good guess."

"Wasn't a guess. I had a feeling, and then it was in his eyes, the fear…Lindsey Martin and the step dad-"

"-Physically hurt him. Maybe even emotionally. Could have been just one of them though, who knows. J.G's unusual silence might stem from the abuse and not from actually witnessing his parent's murder."

"Could be." Patrick hesitated when he heard light footsteps on the stairs. "Look, you'll need to tell me what the case worker has to say later. Wait, better yet, set up a meeting for tomorrow so I can talk to her myself."

"I can try nine AM."

Patrick turned away from the stove and prepared to hit the phone's off button. "Perfect."

J.G finally reached the bottom stair, an Aquaman action figure was clutched in his tiny eight year old fist. Patrick noticed a small black hills gold ring fitted snugly around the doll's arm. It was nice looking but probably not worth much. It was probably from his mother's jewelry box.

"Perfect timing kiddo! Grilled cheese is done. If you're lactose intolerant or can't have gluten and wheat now would be a good time to tell me. I don't want you eating anything that could hurt you. I want you to be safe." He said this last thing purposefully, trying to make eye contact with the child. "Protected, secure."

J.G twirled Aquaman's blue cape, the only cloth part on the plastic toy, but didn't sit down on the bar stool at the granite countertops.

"I bet Superman would like to sit at the counter and eat." Patrick said, hoping J.G would correct his mistake.

He walked to the tall stool and pulled himself up. He bent Aquaman's legs so the doll could rest on the stool next to him. Patrick took this as a sign that the seat was taken. A crisp light brown sandwich and apple slices were slid in front of J.G who glanced suspiciously at it but ate anyway. He seemed ravished after the first bite and ate the food quickly.

While J.G ate Patrick left the kitchen and came back with a brightly colored plastic bin. He poured a few of the plastic contents onto the grey speckled counter. J.G's eyes seemed to light up as he saw dozens of Legos scatter in front of him.

J.G looked at Patrick for the first time, curiosity in his face as if thinking, _why do you have kid toys?_

Patrick seemed to have read his mind and explained. "I used to have a little girl; she was quite an architect, best sand castle maker and could create magic with these Legos." He smiled sadly as he held up a red Lego house in his hand.

J.G looked to the backyard door at the back of the kitchen and pointed. A purple sand bucket sat by the mat, bits of sand still clinging to the sides.

Patrick nodded somberly and began fiddling with the Lego pieces. "Losing someone hurts. Sometimes we might want to keep around the things they left behind. Like that ring on Aquaman's arm."

"It's my mom's." J.G said. It was just three words but it was a start!

Patrick leaned across the counter to be at eye level with J.G. "What happened to your mom?"

"My new dad," he said uncomfortably.

"Your new dad, that's what happened to her?"

Nothing but silence as J.G toyed listlessly with the Legos.

"I have some very tough questions about your mother." Patrick said gently. "Do you think you can try to answer?"

"Okay…"


End file.
